The adventures of Sheldon Cooper: A Study in Sky
by ZorasimplyZora
Summary: Alternatively: how I, Amy Farrah Fowler transitioned from army Doctor in Afghanistan to living with a theoretical physicist/consulting detective/possible sociopath.
1. Chapter 1

**A better summary: this story is a mix of The Big Bang Theory, Sherlock and the canon Arthur Conan Doyle stories. However, you don't need to have read the stories or be a fan of Sherlock to understand this story. It does borrow heavily from the story A Study in Scarlet though.**

 **This is self-edited. So my apologies for any grammatical mistakes.**

 **Prologue**

"Slow down, Smelly-Pooper!"

A hand reached out to the boy intent on grabbing his hoodie. Instead, Sheldon turned on his heel, running through the maze of bookshelves as fast as the librarians would allow. "There's no running in the library!" the bully shouted in a singsong manner.

 _I would not run, but you keeping chasing me_ Sheldon thought, but kept his mouth shut. He had said enough already. Instead of further provoking the bully, he continued to zigzag through rows of reference books, ducking under ladders and hoping over stools. No one protested, most of the librarians used to these behaviors. And the few who would normally intervene were on lunch break.

The six-year-old finally stopped in between two shelves, bending down to take a breath and tie his shoe. Sheldon looked up noting that he was in the 500s. The smaller the number, the deeper he was in the library. As he reached to adjust a book on physics halfway off a shelf, he could hear footsteps drawing closer. Sheldon continued to run, racing past the 400s.

Unfortunately, he was running into a dead end. He turned, going into a set of shelves, and leaned against one as much as possible (there were no gaps to crawl in and hide).

As Sheldon expected, most of the bullies sprinted past his shelf, towards the dead end. But the head bully stayed behind, walking confidently as if he owned the public library. The bully turned his head and saw the gangly kid, his face breaking out into a smile too cruel for someone so young.

"Hey look, I found the nerd," before Sheldon could try to escape, the 6-9 year olds surrounded him.

"Wha-What do you want?" Sheldon stammered, bracing himself for pain.

The bully turned to his friends, and they spoke all at once in whispers. Sheldon couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but he heard the words "hit", "punch" and "slap used multiple times.

After a minute or so the bully turned to look at Sheldon. "We want you to say my name is Sheldon Cooper, and I am a smelly pooper," the bully said smirking. "If not we'll punch you in the face."

That's it? I get to choose between insulting myself and getting punched repeatedly? "Do you promise you won't punch me?" The bully looked confused. Evidently, he did not expect Sheldon to agree his demands. Sheldon repressed a snort. In Sheldon's mind, they had just verified their stupidity.

"Yeah, sure."

"Fine. My name is Sheldon Cooper, and I am a smelly pooper." The bully was clearly unsatisfied with how easy it had been and the smirk faded.

"Nah, I won't let you off that easily," the nine year old said as he grabbed the largest book on the shelf and hit Sheldon on the shoulder with hit. Sheldon yelped, and clutched it, sensing a bruise the next day. The bully tossed the book aside, leaving with his miniature army.

Sheldon carefully picked up the book, flipping it over to the front cover. The History of Forensic Science and Crime it said in black headline-font on scarlet. The little boy pulled up a stool, and began reading.

 **And thus his timeline changed. Sheldon will still become a physicist in this au, (he does need to pay the bills). I explain a little more next chapter. Also, some characters keep their Big Bang Theory jobs, while others will work in completely different fields for the purpose of plot.**

 **Here's a few of the Sherlock characters, if you watch both shows, try to guess who will be their equivalents in the next chapter:**

 **John Watson = ?**

 **Mike Stanford = ?**

 **Sherlock Holmes = Sheldon**

 **Inspector Lestrade = ?**

 **Mrs Hudson = ?**

 **Thank you for reading!**


	2. 1 week AA ( After-Afghanistan)

**First: thanks to those who reviewed. Michiamoverano, you were right and thank you for such a kind review.**

 **Second: It's been a hectic two weeks for be, and it's next going to get better until the end of June. Fortunately I do have a plan for this story, which is saying a lot for me. I intend to finish this, but unfortunately the updates will be sporadic. I may be able to update this by the end of the week though.**

 **Finally: I've only written one piece of TBBT fanfiction and that with Leonard and Penny. I've tried to keep their canon personalities possible, but some parts will be compromised for the au, and some because this isn't beta-read. If you think I've made a mistake, just tell me.**

Entry 1:

10:11 pm September 24, 2007

Various people have told me, after my experienice in war, to write everything down. To tell people what I did, to tell true war stories. I've decided to do something different, to document what happens after I return home. To tell you the truth, I also needed to write down what has transpired today, perhaps to gain a greater understanding of it.

I returned home from Afghanistan a week ago, to fulfill my scholarship opportunities. Harvard gave me a full ride for my master's degree; however, I could not receive a similar offer to complete a doctoral degree. To my surprise, the military offered to pay for my schooling if I served as an army medic, so once I finished my paper, off to the Middle East. I had barely turned twenty-six when a rogue Taliban member tried to blast his way through the hospital. Thankfully, I survived, and did not lose a limb. A bullet did go through my ankle, and that was enough for a purple heart, a limp, and an honorable discharge.

The army still paid for my scholarship and I returned home with an excellent job offer from Cal-tech. When I healed, I returned home to my native California. So now, it is a matter of adjusting.

Today was my 2nd day officially at Cal-tech, though the first was just finishing negotiations for my paycheck. Today I decided to tour the rest of the campus, starting with the engineering department.

"Amy? What a surprise!" I turned around, my eyes landing on an old friend from college. Evidently, his hopes for a later growth spurt were dashed, as he was still short than I.

"Howard?" His outfit also appeared to be near-identical to high school. "You work at Cal-Tech?" Perhaps I should explain how I met him. Both of us are Neil Diamond fans, so we became friends at a concert. Since our campus were rather close, we kept in touch. In all honesty, he still is one of the best friends I made in College. Most other people ignored me, or took advantage of me.

"Yeah, I'm working as an engineer, creating stuff for NASA and other cool projects. Meanwhile last I heard from you, they were shipping you off to get shot at in Afghanistan. What happened?" My leg twitched.

"I got shot," I said bluntly, gesturing towards my crutch. Howard's eyes widened.

"Holy crap! I'm sorry, that was insensitive. I didn't noticed," he started babbling before I cut him off.

"It's fine Howard. It went through my thigh, and guess what? I still have my leg. Some people weren't so lucky," I said, cutting him off. Instead Howard seemed more upset, and continued to babble until I interrupted him again. "Uh, do you know where the cafeteria is? Preferably the staff cafeteria," I said, trying to change the subject.

"Sure! You can sit with me and Raj. Well, first I should tell you that he has, uh, what he calls selective mutism. Basically he can't talk to girls who aren't related to him and aren't kids," he said, rolling his eyes. That was surprising. Still, I've met worse. If he can't talk to me, then at least he can't insult me to my face. "So… what have you been doing statewide?" he asked;

"Let's see… trying to calm my mother down, looking for an apartment, and finishing up paperwork for this job. I'll be working with monkeys" I smiled fondly. I joined a team studying addiction.

"Cool! Meanwhile I've been working a zero-gravity liquid waste disposal system for NASA," he said eagerly.

"… You built a space toilet," he pouted, and I suppressed a smirk. Great use of a Master's degree I thought.

"Hey, astronauts need to do their business too!" he said with his arms crossed. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Of course, Howard. I was just clarifying what you said"

"Oh, okay," he replied, his posture slumped. "So where are you thinking of moving to?"

"I would like someplace close to Cal-tech, twenty minutes away at the most. Safe neighborhood, after all I did come back from Afghanistan," I gestured down to my crutch. "Perhaps I should find a roommate."

"Huh, you're the second person to say that to me today," he said casually, but I looked at him in surprise.

"Who was the 1st?"

"Ever heard of Sheldon Cooper?" I thought for a moment, before remembering a few papers I had read.

"Isn't he a physicist here, and a former child prodigy?" Howard nodded, but rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, technically, yeah that's what he does to pay the bills. But maybe I should introduce you to him first. He's a genius, yes, but also a bit of an ass." I gave him a half-smile.

"Trust me, I'm used to asses. I'll meet him," he still appeared hesitate, but he answered,

"Fine, I'll lead the way. But understand that he can be insensitive, even if he doesn't mean it." I stopped for a moment, turning to face him.

"People have insulted me all my life. I'm used to it by now. Besides, I can always hit him with my crutch," I said, tapping it against my foot. Howard shut up after that.

We walked through the corridors, and Howard mumbled the names of people we passed on our way to the cafeteria. Once we got there, we waited in line and picked out lunch. Howard led me to a table where a tall, lanky man sat hunched over his food texting. He wore a tan windbreaker, with a red t-shirt peeking out of the collar.

"Raj just texted me, he won't be able to meet us," Howard whispered. I was mildly disappointed, but I assumed I would meet him another day.

"Sheldon, meet an old friend of mine, Amy Farrah Fowler," Howard said in a level tone, gesturing for me to take a seat. Sheldon looked up from his phone, and stared at me. Any other man I would have slapped, but it seemed like he was sizing me up, not imagining me, ah, vulnerable. Still, I suddenly felt an enormous amount of empathy for the bacteria underneath my microscope.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. I froze, and the bastard had the audacity to smirk.

"Afghanistan," I answered, startled. "But how-"

"Howard, can I borrow your phone? Mine is out of battery," Howard glared at him, and did not hand over his phone. Sheldon looked up and held out his hand, surprised.

"Here, use mine," I said, handing over my blackberry. For the next several minutes he shut up while Howard and I ate our food. I glanced at Sheldon, hoping he wasn't going through my email. But finally he finished typing, and handed my phone back.

He took one long last stare at me, his eyebrows scrunched together over his blue eyes. he he got up, and lifted his tray to throw it out. "By the way , the apartment is 4B Los Robles Avenue in Pasadena," he said over his shoulder.

Howard looked at me, his hands raised as if he were saying what can you do?

"Yeah, he's always like that," he said grimly.

I'm writing this sentence while looking at my clock. It's 10:08, and I have to leave early tomorrow. Plus, my hands are shaking and the only thing I can think of is what just happened today. I'll continue writing tomorrow, assuming there are no new developments. Then again, I have a feeling my life was simpler back in Afghanistan.

Au Revoir,

Amy Farrah Fowler.

 **Here's a little bit of background for the characters so far.**

 **Mike Stanford = Howard**

 **John Watson = Amy**

 **26 at the time of this story. Father was a vietnam veteran, insisted she should serve in the medical side of wat after he was wounded. The attack on the hospital killed dozens of people, and Amy was much closer to dying than she lets on in this chapter. The leg isn't the only reason the army sent her back. But**

 **Sheldon = Sherlock**

 **The book planted the curiosity in his mind about crime-solving, but the suspicious death of a fellow student when he's at college is what really drives him into the field. Most people thought his obsession with trying to solve the death was due to how close it was to the 1st year anniversary of his father's death.**

 **I'm trying to write him as a combination of Sherlock and Sheldon. The main difference between the two is Sherlock tends to be self-destructive, while Sheldon is self-preservative, so that will be interesting.**

 **Thanks you for reading!**


	3. 8 days AA

**As usual for me, it's been a while. Sorry, I intended to post this much sooner than I did.**

 **Some of the dialogue is taken from the Big Bang Theory and Sherlock. Kudos to anyone who recognizes it.**

 **Entry 2:**

 **2 :03 am September 25, 2007**

 **8 days AA**

For the love of science, I hate night terrors. When I was young I routinely suffered, but as I got older they slowly phased out. By the time I was eleven they were gone. I hope this will not become a routine issue for me again, but my recent prognosis suggests otherwise. I must also consider the fact that this also happened last night.

Writing has always calmed me down. Besides, I did not finish recounting yesterday's events, so I suppose I owe that to whomever is reading this (besides my psychologist. Hello Dr. Barnes).

 _"Yeah, he's always like that, Howard said grimly._ "But the apartment is pretty huge,"

"Who did he text?" I asked, showing him the number. He squinted at it, and smirked.

"That's his ex-roommate, Leonard. He's a detective for the Pasadena Police, and he wanted to move out because of a promotion. They argued, and Leonard moved across the hall. My guess is Sheldon was being Sheldony and Leonard blocked him." I looked at the texts, and it seemed more similar to what I imagine a couple's argument. "Maybe Sheldon was being jealous of Leonard, or his girlfriend," Howard said with a laugh, and my eyebrows shot up. "Ah, I was just kidding. Sheldon's never been interested in anyone. Frankly that look he just gave you is the most interest he's shown in a stranger, ever."

I have two doctorates and a master's degree. This is what I said to that:

"Oh," I blushed. Few men have ever shown interest in me, and the first kiss I received was because the man was drunk. In one of my worst moments, I considered taking a man's insulin so he would kiss me, but (rightly) decided against it.

"I'll go check out the apartment later," I decided. "what's the worst that could happen?"

Later, during a short break I stopped my desk, intending only to grab an apple. My MacBook sat there innocently, as if it wasn't beckoning me to go on Google. After staring at it out of the corner of my eye, I relented. _Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to look him up._ I reasoned. _After all, I could move in with a maniac._ I set a little kitchen timer to 5 minutes, as to make sure I didn't spend too much time. Then I typed "Sheldon Cooper" into google, and the first results linked to his papers and his history as a child prodigy.

The eighth result listed as .com. I clicked on it, and the posts were on a wide and seemingly unrelated range of topics. Various posts discussed comic books and other forms of entertainment while others were on flags. The most popular post was an older one called _The Science of Deduction._ I was about to open it when the little timer beeped, and I closed my laptop, returning to the monkeys.

Finally, my workday ended, and I double-checked the locks, hoping my predecessors were not so foolish to have taught the monkeys how to open them. I shut the lab door behind me, and packed up my laptop and notes. I was walking over to the parking lot, taking my keys out of my purse when I saw him.

Underneath a streetlamp, Dr. Cooper was on the phone, arguing loudly. "No Leonard, the mugs were originally mine… of course I remember buying them I have an eidetic memory… NO YOU CANNOT KEEP THE COUCH!" he paced in frustration. "Alright, fine I'll pay you for the couch, but you better not touch any of my experiments! ... OH, so you are willing to take my possessions but you won't drive me! … well fine, I'll take the bus!" And with that, Dr. Cooper hung up on whom I presumed to be the roommate. Howard was talking about. I He ran his hand through his hair, scowling.

"Excuse me, Doctor Cooper, do you need assistance?" I asked, walking over to him. He looked down at me, and he relaxed.

"Sure," he decided. "You are much safer than riding the bus, especially since I can't bungee-cord myself to the seat," he said while over to me. "Of course, assuming your PTSD doesn't act up," he mentioned it casually, as if he was saying "the sky is blue" but I froze.

My hand clenched. I had tried to be friendly to this man, and he brought up something I had not planned telling anyone who did not need to know. "How did you know I suffer from it," I said, through gritted teeth. He looked surprised. "You're any army doctor. You have the rigid military posture, plus your tan" he grabbed my arm, pushing my cardigan up to my elbow. "You are only tanned in places you did not cover up with a shirt. If you had spent time at the beach, this tan line," Cooper tapped the place where my skin clearly appeared to change from olive to light, "would not exist. Therefore, you were working either in the Middle East or in Florida. There also your crutches, suggesting you were recently injured. So you came from working in a place where you were expected to have good posture, spent a lot of the time in the sun, and were recently injured. And worked as a doctor" he said the last line pointing to my badge. "You might as well been wearing a sign saying 'I'm an army doctor'. Now, going back to the PTSD. You do have a slight limp, but you're a doctor. I presume that's enough for a medal, not a discharge. No, the leg injury is important, but that day must have been so traumatic, that is left mental scars as well."

In the middle of that tirade, I shut my eyes, restraining myself. He had the gall to ask, "Is that correct?" and crossed his arms, bent down to my eye level, waiting for an answer.

"Yes. And I assume that if you are smart enough to figure out all of that by staring at me, then you are smart enough to convince your ex-roommate to drive you," I stated coldly, turning on my heel to hobble over to my car. As usual, my leg was throbbing with pain.

"Ex-roommate?" Dr. Cooper repeated, as I walked away from him. "Are you referring to Leonard? He's still my roommate, he hasn't signed the papers yet!" he said matter-of-factly. I climbed into the driver's seat, and he shouted, "and I need a ride!" he shouted, running towards me in a desperate attempt to get a ride. "Was it something I said?"

"Yes, Dr. Cooper. Everything you said!" I replied, slamming my door shut. I put my key into the ignition switch, and the car rumbled to life. I locked the passenger door as well, and glared at the disability tag for a moment. For the love of all deities, I wanted to move past that day…

Dr. Cooper ran up to my passenger window, knocking 3 times on it. "I'm sorry!" he shouted through the glass. "I was just making a deduction. I do it to everyone I meet. I was not trying to be insulting. The rudeness was unintentional." It should be illegal for grown men to do puppy eyes.

"Fine," I sighed, and unlocked the door. He scrambled in before I could change my mind. "2311 Los Robles Ave, right?" He nodded, and I plugged the address into my GPS.

'Thank you," he said, once we had pulled out of the parking lot.

"You're welcome," I muttered. "So, Dr. Cooper, what exactly happened with you and Leonard? Howard didn't give me the full story." He took a sharp inhale.

"Please call me Sheldon. Leonard is my ex-roommate. He works as a detective for the police and he promoted a week ago and received a significant bonus for solving an important case. 5 days ago, the neighbor across the hall from us moved out, so Leonard decided to move out as well. I know I'll see him every day, but I'm still mad," Sheldon looked own at his lap, crestfallen. "I'm also not allowed to 'tamper with evidence' as he says he's almost been fired over it. Despite the fact that I solved various cases for the police."

"I thought the police didn't consult amateurs?" I said with a laugh. He glared at me, and I rolled my eyes. "Fine, continue."

"I'm not an amateur. Leonard is the most intelligent person on the force, smart enough that he should have gone into perhaps experimental physics. The rest of the detectives can't solve their way out of a paper bag. Therefore, whenever the police are out of their depth, (which is more often than they will ever admit) they turn to me. I call myself a consulting detective, the only one in the world," he said, smirking down at me. "The police never pay me; hence my rather successful career in physics."

"So you do it for fun," I summed up. "Did you ever consider taking up the piano?"

"Yes, but never had the patience for it," he answered. "But I like to think of it like this. I'm paid to solve the mysteries of the universe as a physicist, and afterwards I solve the smaller mysteries of the human race," There was something profound in that sentence. As I started to mull it over, the GPS spoke up, stating it was two minutes until the apartment. We spent it in silence.

A short time later, I pulled up to a simple, no frills apartment. "You can either park next to the sidewalk or the miniscule parking lot," Sheldon said with distaste. "The man who designed the building decided that the basement would be best for laundry, not subterranean parking." I tried circling the parking lot for an open space, but ended up parking a block away.

"So, parking is an issue," I started, "then how much is the rent?"

"The landlady offered us a deal at 1,800 a month. If necessary, I'm willing to pay slightly more than my half for the first few months, if the starting pay at Cal-Tech is lower than expected."

I was taken aback by his generosity, especially since he said in the way most people would offer to help move furniture, not pay rent.

"Actually, my pay is excellent. The salary and benefits are some of the reasons I chose Cal-Tech over UCLA. Paying rent isn't the problem; my main issue will be furniture since I sold most of what I acquired at Harvard."

"Leonard moved all of his furniture over to his apartment so unfortunately that's also not an option. Perhaps I can accompany you to Ikea?" he offered. Swedish meatballs do sound excellent.

"Alright."

We walked through the glass doors into the lobby, and it appeared as plain as the outside. I scanned it, and it seemed to be in excellent shape.

"The original landlord built this in the 1960s, but thankfully did not use lead paint. The current landlady is not the brightest woman, but she manages the building well." In my head, I conjured up an image of an old woman maintaining the old property of her late husband.

"What's her name?"

"Penny Anderson, her family is from Nebraska," she moved here during the great depression, and she and her husband saved up everything for this plain apartment, "Her father tried to buy farmland in North Dakota, and as it turns out, it had extensive natural gas reserves," well that killed the old lady. "So while Penny grew up on a farm, her family is rather wealthy. She's younger than you are, and her dream is to become an actress. So far, she's been unsuccessful, but this apartment complex provides both a place for her to live, and a steady income. Otherwise she would probably be waitressing at the Cheesecake Factory," Sheldon rolled his eyes.

"You seem to know her rather well…" I said as we waited for the elevator.

"Well, I do admit Leonard and I get a discount on rent because she owed us a favor. Her ex-boyfriend got sentenced to death, and I helped,"

"You helped prove he was innocent?" I asked.

"Oh no, I ensured his death," he answered, and the elevator dinged cheerfully. We entered, and Sheldon pressed his thumb on the button for floor 4. Before the elevator began to close, a man walked into the lobby, and saw the open doors. He rushed in and the doors shut behind him. Sheldon scowled.

"Lieutenant Hofstadter," Hofstadter shifted from foot to foot.

"Since when do you call me Lieutenant?" I scooted away from the two, expecting a fistfight. "I moved out because of a pay raise, it wasn't personal." Sheldon moved so he was face to face with Leonard. "Since I have an eidetic memory, I can tell your exact words were 'Sheldon, I can't continue to let you tamper with the evidence, I'm moving out'. As if solving the crime is "tampering". Leonard sputtered.

"You served cheese with a murder weapon!"

"As I have said before, the knife was clean! Did you seriously consider throwing away a perfectly good knife?" Sheldon tilted his head in challenge.

Before Leonard could reply, the elevator opened with a cheery _ding._ "I leave the army, and yet I'm still surrounded by testosterone," I muttered, stepping out of the elevator. The two men glared at each other for one more moment, before storming out to their respective apartments. They fished out their keys, before slamming the doors behind them. And I was left in the hallway.

I knocked on Sheldon's door, shouting his name. Sheldon opened it, with a vein on his forehead noticeably pulsing. "What is the sixth noble gas?" he demanded.

"Radon, but what that have to do with-"

"Kirk or Picard" He interrupted. Was this a test?

"From your blog, I know they are from Star Trek," I said, carefully phrasing my words, "however I have never seen Star Trek, therefore I cannot form any opinions." He studied me, appearing to consider what I said.

"Fine. Would you be willing to watch the show with me if you become my roommate?"

"Counterproposal, for now I'll watch the first six episodes for now. If it is enjoyable for me, then I'll watch the rest of the show." Sheldon smiled.

"Excellent! You passed the first barrier! The next two are of course more daunting… but you can come in," he said. Sheldon scurried over to the couch, sitting down. I glanced around the apartment. There were some noticeably empty spots from furniture recently removed. "Now this is my spot. It is my 0,0,0,0 the center of my universe. No one else is allowed to sit here, even if I'm not in the room." He patted the cushion next to him. "You may sit here."

"Would you be willing to drive me to and from work every day?"

"Yes… if you are willing to drive-"

"I can't" he interrupted.

"Why not?"

"I choose not to," he said, and his eye twitched. That was a lie, but I let it go.

"As you can see this is the living room," Sheldon spread out his hands before moving to the kitchen island. "This is the kitchen area. My prior roommate," he glared at the door "and I never really cooked, except for breakfast. I grew up in East Texas, so most of my family recipes contain an exorbitant amount of calories and fat," He shook his head in disgust. "So most of the time, I consume takeout from approved restaurants." I nodded.

"I know some healthy recipes, though I must profess that my cooking skills are rather rusty."

He walked over to the hallway, and opened up a door. "This is the bathroom." A periodic shower curtain hung over the tub. "Are you fairly regular?"

I've decided to censor this part, as it is information I personally would not divulge.

 **A snippet from Sheldon's log**

 **"** Are you fairly regular?" I asked her. I do not board with hippies after all.

I believe I register surprise on her face, before she answered "Uh, yes, for the most part. I tend to use the toilet in the early morning before a shower, and evenings." She appeared to be uncomfortable divulging this information. "When I'm menstruating I will need to use it more often. I presume this is to prevent arguments at inappropriate times?" I nodded, pleased.

"See, she gets it!" I shouted at the front door.

 **Amy's blog**

We moved on from the bathroom to the second bedroom. It was completely empty, the paint on the walls cracking in a few places. With no bed, I could not move in any time soon. With only a hall closet left, we walked back to the front door.

"Give me a week to consider this and any other potential options,' I promised. He pouted. "If there are no better apartments I'll move in."

"Fine," He said, holding the door open. "Good night"

"Good night Sheldon," I answered, stepping into the elevator. The metal doors closed, and I smiled at the possibility of a new friend.

This has been remarkably cathartic. While I am a little reluctant to post this, I believe I owe it to the seven people who read my prior post.

Au Revoir,

Amy Farrah Fowler

 **If you got through all of that, thanks. It's admittedly much longer than the other two chapters (combined).**

 **Feel free to review both to me, and to leave fake reviews for Amy's Blog. That would actually be a cool thing to incorporate into the story.**

 **Leonard = Lestrade**

 **Instead of going into experimental physics, he goes into forensic science. No less intelligent than canon Leonard, but is more willing to be a leader. Moves out due to Sheldon constantly tampering with evidence and experimenting at his expense.**

 **Penny = Mrs. Hudson**

 **As Sheldon said, she still grew up on a farm, but her family is wealthy enough for her father to have bought her an apartment complex on the condition she maintains it. This means she can more or less support herself while looking for acting job. Her boyfriend Kurt committed a murder spree, and Sheldon provided evidence of Kurt's guilt, and Leonard was the person in charge of the case. In thanks, Penny gives them a discount on the apartments.**

 **Her relationship with Sheldon is still basically the same as the show. There might be some Lenny later in the story, but it will be in the background.**


End file.
